Hooking Up
by Sheytune
Summary: What if Booth had joined Brennan in the cab after he fired her in Parts in the Sum of the Whole? A look at what could have been.
1. The Morning After

**Note: **I had totally planned to spend this weekend seeing if there really should be an epilogue to Running Away, but then this happened. Here we go – a story set pre-season 1.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them.

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It felt like someone had tied a band of cloth above her eyes and tightened it until it hurt to think. She lay in bed, cringing at the light trying to force its way though her closed eyelids. She must have been extremely intoxicated when she got home last night. Had she left the light on in the hall?

It was only when she went to sit up that she realized her arm was not only asleep, but trapped under the naked man sleeping beside her.

Carefully, she tugged her arm free and sat up, taking slow, deep breaths in an effort to push back the nausea the movement caused. She sat still for a moment, trying not to whimper as the painful tingle of sensation returning to her arm was added to the pounding in her head.

When she was able to use her arm again, she carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed. The previous night's rainstorm had obviously blown over, and she was able to see well enough to locate her panties and one sock. She pulled on the underwear and picked up the sock before walking out into the unfamiliar hallway. Her jeans were crumpled just outside the bedroom door, and she could see her bra peeking out from under the couch in the living room. She followed the trail of clothes through the apartment, pulling them on as she went, and was relieved to find her keys, wallet, and cell phone were still in the pockets of her jacket, which lay just inside the front door.

She stopped at the kitchen, gratefully gulping from a mug with a picture of an anatomically inaccurate yet comical creature on it, and left the apartment, closing the door softly behind her.

The early morning air was crisp as she walked to the corner to determine where she was. Less than ten minutes later, she was on the way home in the back seat of a cab.

**BbB**

He woke to the ringing of the phone on his nightstand, the shrill sound making him feel like someone was attacking his skull with a jackhammer. He slapped at the nightstand, trying to locate the phone without opening his eyes.

By the time he managed to find and answer the phone, he heard nothing but dial tone. He cracked his eyes open and looked at the caller ID for the last missed call. The sight of "S CULLEN" sent him tumbling out of bed. The voicemail light on the phone started blinking as his cell phone started ringing. He stumbled into the bright living room and followed the sound of the ringing to his pants, which were lying on the floor of the kitchen. His grumbled "Booth" prompted a few seconds of silence, followed by "Booth? Where the hell are you?"

"Sorry, sir, I overslept", he answered, looking around his apartment as if it were suddenly hiding an extremely passionate forensic anthropologist, just to spite him. It was abundantly clear that she wasn't there, though, and he made his apologies and promised he was on his way to work.

Three minutes later, he was showered, dressed, and out the door, two hours later than usual. The lack of traffic made the trip faster than usual, but he still had time to ponder whether she'd go for lunch with him – and where he should take her if she said yes. Was it too soon to take her to Sid's?

He parked in his usual spot and made his way to Cullen's office, ignoring the smart-ass remarks from the other agents. Cullen's admin assistant was obviously expecting him, and he was waved into Cullen's office almost immediately.

After a few pointed remarks about the substance abuse counseling available through the FBI's employee assistance program, he was handed another case file and told to take care of it.

He felt guilty at the fleeting wish that it were a murder case – which would have remains that needed examination – and not a kidnapping.

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Well? Anyone interested in where this is going?


	2. Telephone Tag

**Note: **Thank you all for the reviews! They're very motivating (but it's been a busy week, and this chapter _would not _cooperate).

(I had a B&B dream last night that would make an action-packed story. I don't even know what my brain is thinking.)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them.

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The aspirin helped a little, as did the sunglasses, but she knew that only time would truly cure the alcohol poisoning that made her feel so wretched. She sat at her desk, squinting at the bright computer screen, and glared at her ringing phone.

He'd called twice already – three times now – and she had no intention of picking up the phone. There was no reason why he needed to talk to her. After all, they no longer worked together. She found time was making her more annoyed rather than less that he'd fired her whole team because she'd done something he'd described as hot.

The voice-mail light blinked on and she picked up the phone and punched in her password. At his "Hey, Bones", she felt a twinge of excitement, maybe even happiness. In retaliation, she viciously erased the message.

She hung up the phone again and turned her attention back to the screen in front of her. She was finding it disturbingly hard to concentrate on the lecture she was preparing.

By the time Angela walked in and flopped down on the couch, she had only completed another two sentences. She wasn't used to her colleagues treating her office so casually, but Angela didn't seem to care. If only it were as easy to avoid Angela as it was to avoid Booth. Although she had denied it, she was still annoyed that Angela had announced to Hodgins and Zach that she'd slept with Booth. The way gossip spread through the lab, she was sure even Dr. Goodman had heard the story by lunch. This wasn't the first time she'd dated a colleague, and she knew there would be a professional price to pay.

Not that she was dating Booth, of course. It had simply been two people acting on a mutual attraction under the influence of alcohol. Now that they'd indulged their curiosity and no longer worked together, they would likely never see each other again.

If only he would stop calling.

**BbB**

He had teams of agents running down all possible leads. He expected them to report back soon, hopefully with something more to go on, but until they did, he had nothing to do but wait.

He wondering what Bones was doing. She hadn't returned any of his messages – probably busy squinting at some old bones or something. Since it was three in the afternoon, she probably thought he'd figured out they weren't going to be having lunch together anyway.

Booth took another swig of his burnt, lukewarm coffee and forced his attention back to the case file in front of him. Maybe there was something he'd missed.

Six hours later, he pulled off his bulletproof vest as the ambulance's lights and sirens faded in the difference. He needed to forget the expression on that kid's face when they burst through the door. Nothing appealed to him more than dinner with the most intriguing woman he knew – unless it was skipping dinner and going straight to bed.

He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and checked for missed calls. Still nothing.

**BbB**

It had been a long day, but she was determined to finish reading about the latest discoveries in the world of apolipoproteins before calling it a day. At least her headache was gone, and despite her fatigue, she was confident that she was again thinking clearly.

On a typical evening, she would have enjoyed a glass of wine as she caught up on her reading, but given her state of inebriation the previous night, she'd chosen to stick to water. She took a sip and forced her attention back to the journal in front of her. Was it just poorly written, or was it her physical state that made it difficult to concentrate?

When the doorbell rang, she was both irritated and glad to see Booth through the peephole. She stood there for a second, not sure whether to answer or not, watching him shift uncomfortably. When he raised his hand to knock, she gave in and pulled the door open.

**BbB**

He didn't realize how nervous he was until he was standing in front of her door, waiting for her to answer.

It wasn't likely that she was still working – even brainiac squints had to go home sometime, right? - so either she was lying in a ditch somewhere or he'd done something to piss her off.

His mind went back to the night before – their stumbling journey up the stairs, the feel of her hair brushing his skin, the way she'd pushed him against his front door and practically crawled up his body. She'd seemed to be having as much fun as he was.

What the hell was her problem?

He raised his hand to knock and the door swung open.

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So. For Running Away, I was always at least one chapter ahead, so I was posting twice a week. I'm 0 chapters ahead on this one, so I suspect I'll only be posting once a week. Yes, I know that makes no sense because I was still writing two chapters a week for Running Away. I don't know why it makes a difference, but it does.

Leave me a review and we'll see if that helps. :)


	3. Decisions, decisions

**Note: **Thanks to those who reviewed, I love hearing what you think.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them.

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"How did you find out where I live?"

Brennan realized the answer the second she blurted out the question, but Booth answered anyway. "FBI, Bones, that's what we do."

He took a step forward and, almost involuntarily, she stepped back, allowing him in to her apartment. "The question, Bones, is why you haven't been returning my calls."

Brennan shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. "I didn't think we had anything to talk about."

The door clicked shut behind him, the quiet sound emphasizing how alone they were. She took another step back.

"You didn't think we had anything to talk about." His voice was unnaturally calm, the words measured and deliberate. She stepped back again and her legs hit the back of her couch. "We _slept together_, Bones."

She shrugged. "I'm aware of that."

He stepped forward, trapping her against the couch. "Didn't that mean anything to you?"

Her chin went up defiantly. "It meant we had sex. You were very good. Above average, I'd say. Is that what you want to know?"

She watched, fascinated, as his lips thinned and a muscle twitched in his temple. His hands – the same hands that had held her as she drifted off to sleep, the ones that had made her feel so safe – clenched at his sides.

His eyes searched hers, looking in vain for a sign that she wanted him there. It was difficult to accept that she didn't feel the attraction, the _connection_ he did, but her eyes were shuttered, her arms crossed against her chest as if she needed to protect herself from him.

"Right", he said. "Sorry to disturb you, Bones. I'll be going. It's been a long day."

**BbB**

When she'd moved in to her apartment, she'd owned nothing more than some clothes, a couple of towels, an imperfect yet common artifact she'd found on her first dig, and a box of kitchen things – one pot, three plates, a few pieces of cutlery, and two mismatched coffee mugs.

Over the years, she'd bought furniture, acquired ancient artifacts from around the world, and purchased top-of-the-line cookware. She'd spent countless evenings listening to music while catching up on the work she never seemed to be able to finish during the day. Last weekend, Angela had insisted on coming over to help her pick out an outfit for an upcoming benefactors' dinner, and they'd spent an afternoon talking and laughing. She loved her home – the serenity, the comfort, the knowledge that it belonged to her.

It wasn't until Booth left her alone that she realized how empty it really was.

**BbB**

Two days after his disastrous visit to her apartment, she sent her weird assistant over with the box of evidence. It was unnerving, the way the kid stared at him, and it was almost a relief when he blurted out, "It was unprofessional of you to engage in coitus with Dr. Brennan."

Booth's hand reflexively went to his gun, but he forced it to drop to his side as he stepped menacingly towards the kid. "Excuse me?"

The kid was brave – or stupid – enough to look him in the eyes as he continued, "It was immensely stupid of you to fire us." Booth struggled to control his temper as Zach set the box on the desk and fled.

**BbB**

"Hire it back." Caroline's order was a relief.

He told himself he was just doing his job, that the case – the victim – needed him to work with her again, but he knew he was kidding himself. He _wanted _ to see her, and by the time he walked into the Jeffersonian, he had convinced himself she wanted to see him, too.

Her impassive reaction, her claim that she'd moved on, and her refusal to go with him to watch them search the judge's car made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him. If he hadn't convinced Dr. Goodman to force her to go with him, she would have sent that geeky grad student and they probably would have never identified the tiny ear bone that they found in the lock.

The judge would have walked, and it would have been his fault.

**BbB**

He was so kind to the victim's mother. He listened attentively as she talked, murmured reassuring yet factually inaccurate phrases about the victim's death being painless, and made sure that she knew she could call him at any time as the case went to trial.

Brennan had dealt with cops before, and she knew they weren't always so sympathetic and understanding.

He was a good man – a man who deserved more than she could give. He needed someone who was good with the living, not the dead. Based on the small shoes by his front door, he had at least one child. She'd never wanted children to be part of her life.

She'd made the right decision.

A few months in Guatemala was just what she needed – a break from Booth and a chance to participate in an important dig. The Jeffersonian's investors liked things like that, and Dr. Goodman liked it when the investors were happy.

She finished her travel request and hit send.

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I believe there will be one more chapter. Let me know what you think of this so far!


	4. What Might Have Been

**Note: **Here we go, the last chapter. Sorry for the delay. If nothing else, this story has given my procrastination skills a workout.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them.

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Her days were filled with activity – arranging for another professor to proctor the exams for her classes, finding a supervisor for Zach, and finishing up some of the backlogged cases from bone storage. She also had personal errands to take care of – going to the dentist, renewing her prescriptions, and arranging for her neighbour to watch her apartment. By the time she fell into bed at night, she was exhausted.

It would have been nice if she had been able to sleep.

**BbB**

He finished the paperwork alone. It was his job, and there was no reason to expect her to help with it. She'd sent over an addendum to her original report covering the recovery and DNA analysis of the bone they'd found in the judge's car.

He checked twice to see if she'd included a personal note. She hadn't.

He told himself he was glad – no need to make things any more awkward than they already were. She'd been very clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him.

It was almost six when he signed the last page. His phone rang, and he listened as his caller invited him to dinner. He felt weird about accepting, but Bones had made it clear there was nothing between them any longer. An evening with a beautiful, pleasant companion beat grilled cheese alone.

He had to move on, to accept that a relationship with Bones was never going to happen.

Besides, he enjoyed Tessa's company. Dinner would give them a chance to reconnect.

**BbB**

Angela forced herself to smile as her date droned on about the next election. That was the problem with political junkies – they couldn't leave work at the office.

She twisted her wineglass in her hand and contemplated making her excuses, maybe pleading an early morning meeting. One one hand, she wouldn't get to have sex. On the other, she wouldn't have to listen to … whatever it was Brad was droning on about. At least she could see most of the restaurant from where she was sitting – she could let her mind wander and still smile and nod in what she hoped were the right places.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door open and a familiar-looking man walk in. By the time she realized who he was, he had woven his way through the crowded restaurant to a table where an attractive blond woman sat alone. The woman stood up and they hugged, exchanging a brief kiss before sitting down. As Booth gave the waiter his drink order, she touched her date's hand and smiled. "Excuse me for a minute. There's someone I have to talk to. I'll be right back."

Before he could answer, she was out of her chair, winding her way towards the unsuspecting FBI agent.

**BbB**

They'd eaten together before – in restaurants, at her place, at his place – but he didn't remember the conversation being so stilted. It was almost a relief when they were interrupted by one of Bones's squints. What was her name again?

She smiled a dazzling smile and held out her hand to Tessa. "I'm Angela. I'm with the Jeffersonian Institution. We've been helping Booth out with a case."

"Tessa. It's nice to meet you", Tessa replied. "Would you like to join us?"

"I can't, I'm with someone." Angela waved at a bored-looking man sitting alone. He smiled and waved back. "I just wanted to say hi. Nice to meet you, Tessa. See you around, Booth."

"Yeah", he agreed, "Maybe there'll be another case."

"Better not be for a while", Angela answered. "Bren's off to Guatemala on Saturday."

**BbB**

In two days, she'd be on a plane, hoping the person in front of her didn't recline her seat in the middle of the meal. In three days, she'd be in a tent in the forest, miles from modern civilization.

Tonight, though, she was at home, looking at Booth standing uncertainly at her door. She let him stand there for a few seconds, then swung the door open. "You might as well come in."

He followed her to the couch and sat beside her. He was the one to break the silence. "You're leaving."

"Yes", she nodded, "I've been asked to assist on a dig in Guatemala. I'll be gone a few months."

"Is it because of me?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "It's my _job_, Booth."

"You didn't mention it before."

"I wasn't aware I had to advise you of my schedule."

"Ever since we ..."

"Had sex", she supplied.

"Yeah. You've been avoiding me. You don't return my calls, you don't want to work with me. We were pretty drunk, and I wasn't as careful …" He took a breath and asked the question he'd been dreading. "Did I hurt you?"

He was pretty sure her surprise was genuine, and it was a relief when she answered, "You didn't hurt me. We had one night, and I'm not looking for more than that. And the case is over. There's no reason for us to work together."

He nodded, and pushed himself to his feet. Silently, she walked him to the door. He couldn't resist the urge to hold her one more time. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her as if memorizing the way she felt in his arms, then let her go. "Stay safe, Bones."

She nodded. "You too, Booth."

**BbB**

It was warm and muggy in the tent. Outside, she could hear the rustling of the wind through the trees and the unfamiliar call of a bird. It was late, and she knew she should be sleeping, but her body wasn't cooperating.

She wondered what was happening in DC. Was Hodgins still as unpleasant as ever? Had Angela gotten tired of a regular job and flitted off to Maui or Venice or London? Was Zach working well with Dr. Larsen?

What was Booth doing?

If her life had been different, if her parents had stuck around, if she'd been able to imagine a life with someone, would they have been able to make it work?

What would that have looked like?

She flicked on her lantern and, pulling a spare notebook from her pack, began to write.

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And that's it. Let me know what you think.


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